


Draped in Black and Gold

by Yamiga



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamiga/pseuds/Yamiga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a reason Mikhail was so casual towards Asami on the gambling ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draped in Black and Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grinner_H](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/gifts).



> So yesterday, I read a really amazing story by oninoshirosaki, called Four Christmases. It's a YohxFeilong pairing fic, but you don't have to appreciate that pairing to enjoy the writing. I don't like YohxFeilong that much but her poetic/prose like style pulled me in. Anyway, this is why I'm gifting this fic to her, after a conversation we had through the comment section. Though, her style far exceeds mine, I do hope she likes it.

At age seventeen, Mikhail stood on the balcony of his estate. He overlooked the dim city lights of Mascow, wishing desperately to explore those foreign streets. And no, he didn't mean having access to exclusive night clubs, or anything of the sort. He simply wanted to walk through Russia, without his caliber and influence following him like a bear to honey.

 

He sighed as the music from inside grew louder. There was a gathering, taking place in the venue. His father's business partners from all around the world were present, visiting and congratulating him on various accomplishments. Mikhail wished not to be a part of it. As of recent, he had very desperately wanted to drift away from his father's side. The way the ma n would exploit him like some prized doll was enough to make him sick. He knew Mr. Arbatov's true intentions, he always had. At a young age, he was naïve to them, frightened to them. But now, almost a man, he had seen the true greed and cowardice of the man he dared to call father.

 

In silence, he continued to stare until another joined him. Mikhail wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings. He only heard the opening of the balcony door, and foot steps shuffling near him. Standing quietly next to him, an older man overlooked the city as well. His hair was dark, and his features were foreign. Staring casually from the corner of his eye, Mikhail assumed this man was from Asia. He took out a cigarette and lit it.

 

“I assume you're the missing Arbatov?” The man spoke perfect English. “Your father won't stop bragging about you.”

 

Mikhail faced him. “I'm not entirely sure what he's bragging about.”

 

“Hn.” The man continued to smoke until his cigarette shrank. He then dropped it and crushed it on the ground. “Nice meeting you.”

 

“You too.” Mikhail continued to face the city lights as the older man turned away. “What's your name?”

 

“Asami Ryuichi.” The man replied as he headed back into the venue.

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

Months later, Mikhail watched as a heavy coffin was being lowered into the ground. Around him, people were draped in black. They cried even more tears than the sky had that evening. Mikhail only stood, there feeling nothing but a sense of relief about him. He was happy that old man died. Prior to this day, he had felt an emptiness that far exceeded the six foot deep hole in the ground. Now he felt full, free. The rain, no matter how hard it pelted down on his perfectly crisp suit, didn't bother him. He felt as if it was cleansing him, washing away all those terrors he'd faced as a child. 

 

After the funeral concluded, he found himself heading back to his limo. Many Arbatov's offered to stay with him for a while but he declined. He insisted that he would be fine by himself. So they left him alone to the privacy of his limo. 

 

He sat in the automobile and stared outside of the window as it pulled out. Faces passed, and turned into smudges draped in black. He continued to gaze, his eyelids growing heavy.

 

_Black...Black...Black...Gold..._ Amongst the faces and the cesspool of darkness, Mikhail could've sworn he saw two golden orbs gazing into the car. He'd seen them somewhere but at the moment, he couldn't quite recall. 

OoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Home was as lonely as it could be with two people.

 

Mikhail entered the living room, not expecting to see another sitting there, quietly with a pipe of opium extended from his mouth. He seemed not to notice Mikhail at first as he crossed his legs and gazed into the unlit fire place.

“I'm not dead just yet, Feilong.” He placed a hand on the surface of the armchair. “You can't come claiming my territory as you please.”

 

Feilong, taking the opium pipe from his mouth, stood and crossed his arms. “That's bold, coming from someone like you. Though I suppose you have that authority.” Standing shorter than Mikhail, Feilong was actually three years older. Both Elder Liu and Mr. Arbatov were close friends and business partners. It was fitting that their sons had some type of relationship.

 

“I simply came to visit, and offer my condolences.” He smiled, and stuck his pipe back into his mouth. Taking a step, he began to walk around the living room.

 

“You should know more than anybody, that my father's death won't affect me.” Mikhail took his seat in the arm chair.

 

“I figured.” Feilong currently looked at the picture that hung over the mantle. “But regardless, do you know who murdered him?”

 

“They said it was an enemy, a rival.” Mikhail crossed his legs. “I suppose that very rival will be after my head then.”

 

“That's why I am here.” He smiled.

 

“To protect me?”

 

“To guide you.” Feilong stood behind the chair. “You are a boy in a man's world. You've been under daddy's watchful eye far too long. There are things you won't be able to comprehend by yourself.”

 

Mikhail remained silent as he gazed at the fireplace as if it was interesting. At that moment, he couldn't quite find a snide remark to match Feilong's annoying advice because as much as he wanted to deny it, the older man was right.

 

“What do you plan to do now that you have your fortune?” He sat on the arm of Mikhail's chair, moving some of his hair out of his face. “You'll have enemies, you are aware?”

 

“I already have enemies.” Mikhail blankly replied.

 

Feilong just chuckled and stood. “When you are ready, than we can discuss. My father is very interested to hear what you will do now.” Mikhail listened to his friend walk upstairs. He closed his eyes and melted back into the arm chair.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

That night, Feilong had announced he had business to tend to, and left Mikhail alone. The seventeen year old ate some of the various food items that his aunts and uncles had left for him earlier that day. After that, he found himself glued to the arm chair, flipping through the television for something that could interest him. The shock of being a mafia leader hadn't it him yet, or it had, he just didn't care at that moment.

 

Sighing, he ended up shutting off the television and standing. Moving some of his unkempt hair out of his face, he made way to the balcony where he stood, and gazed at the city once again. Save for the city lights in the distance, everything was dark. Strangely, this brought a sense of serenity to Mikhail, a sense of peace. He wasn't one for bright, extravagant colors. Simple dark shades did just fine and satisfied his taste.

 

As he continued his gaze, he heard the door leadng to the balcony open. Of course, his first thought was that Feilong had returned, so he made no notion to turn around. He wondered what all his friend had been up to that night. Given that Feilong was an assassin, Mikhail could only imagine. As he heard those heavy footsteps approaching the rail, he could practically smell the blood filling the air. He turned, opened his mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly.

 

“May I join you?” Golden eyes smiled back, causing the young Russian Mafia boss to nod.

 

“I don't see why not. Mr. Asami, right?” Asami slowly made way to the balcony where he leaned over and withdrew a cigarette from his mouth. Mikhail, a few feet away from him, gazed with curiosity plaguing his face. Those golden eyes struck him like a bolt of stray lightening. He knew he had seen them before, somewhere....

 

“Mr. Asami,” He started. “Why were you at my father's funeral?” It hit him, in such a way that he couldn't simply speculate. He knew for a fact, that it was this man. Amongst the drapes of black and grey, Asami's pure golden eyes stuck out to him, they called his name.

 

“How did you know it was me?” Asami didn't seem at all concerned that his cover had been blown. He just continued to blow out puffs of Dun Hill.

 

“Your eyes.” Mikhail replied.

 

Asami chucked and dropped his cigarette. He took a few steps back as if to get a better view of the city. “Is that so?”

 

“You haven't answered my question.”

 

Silence ensued as Asami joined Mikhail again. “He was an old friend of mine. I'm sorry for your loss.”

 

“It wasn't much of a loss on my part, more of a gain.” The teen grinned and moved yet another annoying strand of hair out of his face.

 

Asami chuckled. “Is it safe to assume that the two of you were distant?”

 

Mikhail turned to face him. “Like fire and ice.”

 

“Or black and gold.” The older man constructed, taking out another cigarette. “Fire and ice are opposites, created of different material. Black and gold however,” He took a breath. “are both colors. Both of the same family. Opposites, but the same.”

The wind seemed to be the only thing that opposed the silence as the two men looked ahead. Mikhail figured he should have been worried, after all, it was still a mystery as to why Asami had come, yet alone, how he had gotten in. However, he saw no reason to feel threatened or anything of the sort. If Asami wanted to harm him, he would have done so by now.

 

“Are you enjoying your stay in Russia?” He managed, turning to face the older man.

 

“I prefer Japan.” Asami admitted. “Though it's nice here.”

 

“The view, culture, people...landscape?” Mikhail asked quite confused. “Russia offers a variety_”

 

“Something else.” The mysterious man proceeded to calmly gaze at him. A smile lingered across his pale lips as the wind blew his dark bangs from his forehead. “Something a bit more extravagant.”

 

Perhaps it was the stillness of the night that controlled their actions, but to this day, Mikhail still didn't know why he allowed it to go as far as it did. He was the first of the two to take a step, standing slightly taller so his lips could actually press against Asami's. The Japanese man softly returned the kiss, stepping back after a few lingering seconds.

 

Mikhail turned back towards the city. “You taste like smoke. Dun Hill, correct?”

 

“You seem quite familiar with the taste.” Asami replied turning away.

 

“Father used to smoke it.”

OoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Later that night, after Mikhail showered and retired to his bed, Feilong entered his bedroom. He was still dressed nicely in his suit with his dark hair flying behind him like a banner. He sat on the edge of the king sized bed and nudged the sleeping prince.

 

“Mikhail,” He breathed quietly.

 

The young mafia boss rubbed his eyes and sat up. Turning on his lamp to stare at Feilong. “What is it?” He managed through a yawn.

 

“I've discovered who killed your father.” The older assassin crawled near Mikhail. “There's speculation that he may be after you as well.”

 

_How on Earth did he figure that out?_ The teenager opened his eyes. “Who is he?”

 

“His name is Asami Ryuichi.”

 

“Hn.” Mikhail pulled the blankets over his head, hiding the shock that was visible in his eyes.“I haven't heard of him.”

 

“I have.” Feilong presently lay down next to Mikhail, with his head turned towards the ceiling. “He's not one to play with.”

 

“I'll keep that in mind.” He chuckled a bit, receiving a grunt from Feilong. “I can add him to my list of_”

 

“This isn't something to joke about, Mikhail. Do you want to die so easily?”

“It would be more fitting than living this life.”

 

He knew those words hurt Feilong and for a few seconds felt guilty. The assassin didn't have to come all this way to help him, but he did. Mikhail needed to be the least bit thankful, and hurting Feilong's feelings weren't exactly going in that direction. So he pushed the covers off of his head and sat up.

 

“Feilong.” He began, gazing at the Chinese man. He presently lay down on his side with his hair covering his eyes. Mikhail used a hand to move his long dark bangs from his face, revealing his brown orbs. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Anything.” Feilong replied quietly.

 

“Do you think we'll ever fall in love?” That question caused the assassin to sit up.

 

“You mean with each other?”

 

“No.” Mikhail laughed. “That would be strange. Just in general. Do you think there is more to life than this. The underworld?”

 

“I'd like to think so, why?”

 

“I'm only curious.” The teenager chuckled. “If you could have a normal life, with a normal lover, what would it be like?”

 

Feilong, crossed his arms, thought for a while and smiled. “I would love to marry a doctor. He'd of course, have to be much older. With age, comes knowledge and I want someone wise to stand by my side. Yet at the same time, he needs to have little to no backbone. I will not stand for anyone to disobey me.”

 

Completely disregarding the last part of Feilong's wish, Mikhail proceeded to question him. “Why a doctor?”

 

Feilong shrugged. “There are a lot of logical reasons. My father used to tell me that we can trust doctors more than we can our allies. Your allies can turn on you, doctors, no matter who you are will always be there to help you.”

 

“As long as they're getting their paychecks at the end of the day.” The teen replied. “You're too gullible, Feilong. In this world, it's not safe to trust even those who are supposed to protect you.”

 

The assassin chuckled. “Another bold statement coming from you.” He stood, and moved some hair from his face. “And who, if I may, do you have in mind? If you had a normal life, if you grew up without having to harbor the weight of the Russian mafia, what life would you choose? Who would you fall in love with?”

Mikhail shrugged. “Definitely, not some as pestering and as annoying as you.” Meant as a joke, Feilong playfully nudged the teen before he left.

 

When the door shut, Mikhail reached for the light and turned it off. Falling back onto his mattress, he sighed and allowed his thoughts to manifest through his mind. He didn't know whether to be troubled, or contempt with this Asami situation. He knew that now, he had fallen into a hole that he couldn't escape from. However, he supposed that if the Asami wanted to kill him, he would've. But was their truly a reason to keep him alive? He was only a teenager, a simple obstacle standing in his way.

 

 _Black and Gold..._ That echoed in his mind, over and over again. Two things opposite, yet born of the same source. He wondered if that had anything to do with it.

 

An annoying sense of foolishness tickled at his spine as he recalled the kiss from before. He liked to think that Asami, who had leaned in at the time, wanted it. For love, no, maybe for dominance? Mikhail supposed so, due to the fact that he himself, harbored no love for such a man. Things happened between two people when the moment was right, whether it be a kiss or something greater. All in all, it was only a kiss. An ill trusted, ill fated kiss.

 

He'd , with little to no emotion, touched the lips of the man who had murdered his father. Feeling no remorse, it was safe to assume that the kiss served as thanks. Thanks for the man that had taken his putrid father from his life. Maybe Asami understood that as well. He could see past that smile Mikhail projected. That smile of pure gold hidden behind drapes of black.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There it is, chapter one out of two or three. Hope you enjoyed it! I don't own Finder Series of any or it's characters. Now back to doing my month late assignment.


End file.
